Your Laughter
by seilleanmor
Summary: My fiftieth story on this site and a gift for chezchuckles, without whom I mightn't have made it past one. Snapshots of Kate Castle's life with her son.


_Quitame el pan, si quieres_

_Quiatme el aire, pero_

_No me quites tu risa_

**xxx**

Take away the bread from me, if you like

Take away the air, but

Do not take from me your laughter

_**Tu Risa**_**, Pablo Neruda**

* * *

_For Laura. Thank you, for everything._

* * *

**Your Laughter**

* * *

First, always first, is the soft hum of her laughter.

Dragged up by the claws of awareness, Castle lies prone in the middle of their bed and just listens. It falls like clear water over the pebbled bottom of a stream, cutting a path through the thick expanse of life that thrives upon it.

Life-giving laughter, and it seems fitting. Even like this, quiet and self-conscious so as not to wake him, the spill of joy out of his wife lifts up through the loft, offering itself up for divine inspection. How much he loves her is this first, and then the crease and shift of her face in happiness.

In the velvet darkness of their bedroom Kate is little more than a smudged shadow, bent at the waist, and the fall of her hair seems electric. As she shifts, her whole body shimmers and swells, fills up the space around her. Suddenly he has to touch her, ghost his fingertips over the ridges at her spine and touch his mouth to the smooth patch behind her ear.

He slips out from between the sheets and moves to stand with her, his palm settled in the curve just at the base of her spine where her hips flare out. "He wake you?"

"Yeah. Figured he was hungry, but as soon as he saw me he just smiled. Perfectly content."

In the bassinet, their son grins up at his parents. On his back with both hands fisted in the too-long toes of his romper, the boy babbles away in his baby talk and wriggles his diaper-padded butt in the sheets. He's got Castle's eyes, the same crooked smile already, but when he was born red-faced and quietly observant the dark cap of his hair stuck straight up like a porcupine.

Like his mother. Castle's seen pictures, spent a lazy afternoon with his wife thumbing through the photo album her father gave them and having to swallow back the thick clog of emotion at the tiny smudge of a girl in Johanna's arms.

"You should probably try feeding him anyway, love." Castle murmurs, grins at the ripple of awareness that tears through Kate in the wake of his sleep-roughened voice.

Uh huh. Two weeks since they got the all clear from the doctor to get back to their usual bedroom activities, and he's torn constantly between the aching sex appeal of his wife so languid and delicious and a desperate need to just sleep and sleep every moment the boy spares them.

Kate scoops up their son and brings him in close to her chest, presses her mouth to the crown of his head. She's sucking in that clean baby scent like she's drowning and Castle doesn't have the heart to tell her that she doesn't need to. She's dripping with it, all the time smelling like their son.

"Hi, my sweet boy. Did you get lonely, hmm? That's okay, Mommy's right here. And Daddy too, see." His wife shifts to face him a little more, lets him see the scrunched up little face of their son. Castle leans in to kiss the boy's cheek and then crowds Kate, herds her back to the bed.

He props the pillows against the headboard for her and climbs in at her side, strokes a finger down their son's nose as Kate pulls up her shirt.

Completely unashamed, and of course she's never been shy about her figure around him but he knows she'd been worried about it, worried he'd think it gross. Until he told her that watching her feed their son, watching the two of them secreted away in their own little amniotic bubble of bliss, brings him to his knees every damn time.

The boy latches on, little fist resting at Kate's breast, and Castle draws an arm around his wife's waist to support their son, burrows his way inside of their sheltered peace to bask in it with them. "I don't blame him for wanting you. You know he's completely in love."

"Well, so am I." Kate hums on a laugh and turns to kiss him, soft and entirely distracted by their son. "With you and him both."

The boy detaches himself from Kate's breast and blinks up at her, grinning just at the sight of his mother's face. And she beams right back at him, lifts him up with both hands secured under his arms so she can press a burst of a kiss to the end of his nose.

He kicks his legs and lets out that choking almost-laughter, makes both of them laugh along with him. "You full up, sweetheart?"

"I'll burp him. You should sleep." Castle says, taking his son and positioning him to lie against his shoulder. Kate lifts up on her knees to reposition her pillows and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her properly, mindful of the boy in his arms as he sweeps his tongue along her lower lip.

"Say goodnight to Mommy, little man." Castle murmurs next to his son's ear, grins at the startled way the boy wheels around to stare at him. "Love you, Kate."

"Love you too." His wife says, cupping the back of their son's skull a moment. And then she curls up on her side to watch him rub gently along their baby's spine, his shirt already damp with the sleepy warmth of the boy.

So good like this, the three of them in the thick darkness of the loft and the rush of life outside the window soothing them to sleep. His wife and son both.

* * *

She tries not to let it hurt.

She really does try, but when their son comes stumbling over and climbs into Castle's arms and chokes out "Daddy" on a sob, it stings.

It does.

"Hey buddy, did you fall down?" Castle says quietly, speaking right at their son's ear.

He glances up at his father, fat tears hovering at the fringe of his lashes as he bites his lip and refuses to let them fall. Stubbornly stoic, just like. . .well, like his mother, and so she can't really blame him for wanting the comfort of Castle's presence when he's hurt.

Doesn't she do exactly the same thing?

"I hurted my knee."

"Let me see." Rick says, already rolling back the boy's pants leg to get at the knobbly swell of his knee. So skinny now at five years old, long and lean and a good head taller than most of the kids in his kindergarten class. "Oh look at that, you busted it. Uh oh. What are we gonna do, my man?"

Their son stares up at Castle, his little forehead creased on a frown. Kate folds her hands and traps them between her thighs, tries not to feel completely useless. "Need a new one, Daddy?"

"No, my man, I don't think so. Because you remember what we talked about, Mommy's job?"

Their boy nods, sniffs hard and seems to sink a little closer in against his father's chest. "Mommy is a superhero and she catches all the bad guys."

"That's right. Well, since Mommy is a superhero, do you know what that means?" Castle holds her gaze over top of their son's head, steadfast and unwavering.

Panic claws at Kate's throat and she forces it back, won't let her son see. Maybe it's stupid, but she doesn't like where this is going, what Castle's insinuating here.

"Mommy has superpowers?"

"Uh huh. Do you think Mommy can make your knee all better?"

The boy nods violently and reaches for her, lets her draw him in close and curls up in her lap. "Mommy can do _anything_."

"Castle, I can't-" She chokes out, wide eyes fixed on her husband so she doesn't have to face the vulnerable, sweet little boy in her lap.

"Kate." He levels her with a look, always such faith in her, and she nods. Right. She's his mom; of course she can make him feel better.

"Let me see your war wound, baby." Kate nudges the rolled cuff of his pants leg up a little to see the raw stretch of skin. It's not too bad, not bleeding, but she bets it stings like a bitch. "Wow, cool. Look how brave you're being, my sweet boy."

That earns her a grin and she leans in, presses her mouth just above the injury. She blows out against his skin, makes him shriek with laughter so she has to tighten her arms around him to keep him from flopping right out of her grip.

"You fixed it so I have a cool scar like you, Mommy?" He blinks up at her and Kate grins, comes in to nuzzle her nose against his.

"It's not quite fixed yet, sweetheart." And then she dives for the sweaty heat of his neck instead, blows raspberries there as Castle comes in to tickle underneath their son's arms.

He squeals, struggling free from her grip and dropping back to his feet. "No Mommy, all better, all better. Don't need any more tickles."

"Alright baby, you gonna go play on the slide some more?"

Her son watches her through the thick flop of hair against his forehead, his mouth tilted on a sly grin. Uh huh, she knows that look. Castle all over. "Can I have ice cream because I was brave?"

"You go down the slide three more times and we'll get ice cream, okay my man?" Castle says, glances at her to check for her approval. She shrugs, turns a smile back to their boy.

"You heard Daddy. Go show me your awesome slide skills. And then ice cream." Once their son is out of earshot, already playing full throttle with the other kids, she comes in against her husband's side and tangles her fingers with his. "Thank you."

"No problem, Super Mom."

* * *

The knock at the door makes him grin to himself even as he struggles up from the beanbag seat and goes to open it. Dad never knocks, just barges right in no matter what he might be doing, so it must be Mom. Always respectful; he doesn't know if it's a police thing like maybe she feels she might need a warrant first, or whether it's just a Mom thing.

"Hey."

"Hey, quick, Dad just left. I need you to show me how to play your game so I can beat the pants off of him." His mother says, that glint of mischief to her eyes as she moves to sit on one of the beanbag chairs, snagging a controller from the stand.

"Mom?"

"Come on, I know you must have some tips. He keeps going on at me about how even though he's getting old he's still got it and I just want to put him in his place."

He laughs, comes in to sit next to his mother and restart the game, choosing multiplayer this time instead. "Okay, you know the basic controls yeah?"

"Yeah, I can do that. I swear your father uses cheats and stuff though. So not fair."

"I'm pretty sure he does, yeah." He laughs, shaking his head. "I'll teach you some he doesn't know about."

"Thanks buddy." His mother grins, leaning over to hook an arm at his neck and press a smacking kiss to his cheek. He grimaces and shakes her off, wipes at his cheek, but his mother only gives him that tender smile she's always had, ever since he was a tiny little thing tugging at her pants leg when she came home from work.

"No problem. But Mom? Can you wait until I'm gone before you start taking Dad's pants off?"

She snorts at him and he dissolves into laughter too, closes his eyes against the rapidly-forming image in his mind. Sure, it's good that his parents are still so in love when so many of his friends are from broken homes, but jeez. No need to be gross.

"Sure, I promise not to take Dad's pants off in front of you. Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N: I love Neruda, and I love Laura, and Laura loves Neruda, and both of us love exploring a future in which Castle and Beckett have kids. So this, my fiftieth story on this site, is a gift to her for the depth of knowledge and guidance she's given me. Thank you, chezchuckles.**

**Tumblr: **katiehoughton

**Twitter: **seilleanmor


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